Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/321

Rh Can still the spirit's storm;

Till all the griefs that brought her here,

Each gushing with a bitterer tear,

Round her returning sight appear

In more tremendous form.

In glimpses of a spirit shore

The strength of eyesight to restore

Which coming death denied;

That while the world was lost to her

Her soul might rove a wanderer

Through visional wonders wide.

And strange it is how oft in death,

When reason leaves the brain,

What sudden power the fancy hath

To seize the falling rein.

It cannot hold a firm control,

But it can guide the parting soul,

Half leading and half led,

Through dreams where startling imagery

Hide with their feigned reality

The tossed and fevered bed.

It seems as to the bleeding heart

With dying torments riven

A quickened life in every part

By fancy's force was given.

And all these dim, disjointed dreams

Wherewith the failing memory beams